


Love Me Sweet

by DizzyDrea



Category: Blue Bloods (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It just wasn't smart to fall for your boss, and while her head had gotten that memo, her heart had simply ignored it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, the way that Baker and Frank were looking at each other in _Women With Guns_ sparked something romantic inside me. So, I wrote this. Took me two drafts, but I finally nailed it the way I wanted it. And in light of the fact that Abigail Hawk is quite obviously pregnant in the season finale, I thought now might be a good time to post this. The title is from the poem of the same name by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
> 
> Disclaimer: Blue Bloods is the property of Panda Productions, Paw In Your Face Productions, CBS Productions, CBS Television Studios and a lot of other people who aren't me. I'm doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Detective Melissa Baker sat at her desk, clearing up the last of the paperwork from the day. It was after seven, but she hated leaving her desk cluttered. And she knew—she just knew—that there'd be some crisis or other waiting for her when she got in the next morning that would leave her no time to deal with anything left over from the day before. It sucked, and it cut into her personal life, but there it was just the same.

She snorted. What personal life? She worked for the New York City Police Commissioner; by definition, he was her life.

Wait, that came out wrong. 

But before she had the chance to rethink her position, she saw the Commissioner stop in front of her desk. He was dressed in his charcoal suit—with a crisp, white shirt and that deep blue tie that she loved—already wearing his overcoat with his hands tucked into the pockets. He was looking down at his shoes, but she knew from long experience that if he had something to say, he'd get to it eventually.

She stood up. "Is there something you need, sir?"

"Come with me, Baker," he said, glancing up at her. His expression was unreadable, so she wasn't exactly sure what he meant. Then, he helpfully clarified. "Grab your stuff. It's been a long day."

She looked balefully down at her desk. She still had a few things she wanted to accomplish, but when your boss told you to get your stuff together, you got your stuff together and followed him.

Seconds later, she had rounded her desk, coat slung over her arm and purse hooked to her shoulder. He extended his arm, indicating that she should precede him out. She headed for the elevators, her boss following behind. They rode quietly down, and once the doors opened onto the garage, she headed for her car, bidding her boss goodnight.

"This way, Baker," he said, surprising her.

"Sir?" she asked, totally confused.

They'd stopped in the middle of the garage, halfway between his car and the elevator. She had her own car, so if the Commissioner was trying to give her a lift, there was no need. She'd just opened her mouth to say so when he spoke.

"I find that I'd like a drink. And some company."

She stood there, blinking at him for what seemed like an eternity. Frank Reagan was asking her to have a drink with him. Had she suddenly stepped into some alternate universe? She'd held a certain very non-professional affection for him virtually since the moment she'd come to work for him, but she thought she'd hidden it well. It just wasn't smart to fall for your boss, and while her head had gotten that memo, her heart had simply ignored it.

Still, she knew this could be something altogether different and innocent, so maybe she could just go and then excuse herself after half an hour.

"Yes, sir," she said.

She moved towards his SUV, attempting to shrug into her coat as she walked. It wasn't working. For some reason, the sleeves were being difficult. It didn't help that her purse kept getting in the way. And then suddenly, her purse disappeared from her hands, and her coat untangled itself as he held it for her. She smiled at him as she tucked her arms inside, and if his hands lingered for a moment longer on her shoulders, she just chalked it up to him smoothing out the wrinkles. Because there was no way he was making a move on her.

"Thanks," she said as she took her purse back.

He smiled, a genuine, sweet smile that made him look years younger. "It used to happen to my wife all the time. I got to be an old pro."

It was like a bucket of cold water had been poured over her. Of course he used to do that for his wife. The wife whose ring he still wore. She ducked her head as she felt the blush start to creep over her cheeks. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

Instead, he opened the door to the back seat and waited for her to slide in. This she wasn't used to. Whenever she went out with him, she'd ride in the front seat. To say she was confused would be an understatement. This had all the hallmarks of a date, but who mentioned their dead wife on a date? Still, she climbed inside.

The driver—a member of the Commissioner's detail named Michaels—smiled at her and the Commissioner. "Where to, sir?"

"D'Antoni's," Frank said.

Melissa's eyebrow rose. D'Antoni's was an Italian restaurant not far from One Police Plaza, rather upscale, and someplace the Commissioner only took close friends and family. Which confused her even more.

They rode in silence, but far from being awkward, it was comfortable. He was the kind of man who was at ease in any situation. He was powerful, but didn't flaunt it. And he was a man used to getting what he wanted. She just couldn't figure out exactly what he wanted from her.

She was left no more time to wonder as they pulled up outside the restaurant. Once inside, they were shown to a quiet table in the corner, away from prying eyes. She figured it was a sign of deference to his position and stature. He stepped behind her and helped her out of her coat before pulling out her chair and then tucking it under her as she sat down. She blushed. Again.

He smiled, causing her to blush all the more.

"What?" she asked. It came out sharper than she'd planned, but then this whole experience had her a bit on edge.

"It's been a long time since I've made a young lady blush," he said as he sat down—on her left instead of across from her.

She covered her cheeks with her hands. "This is so embarrassing."

"What, that you're blushing, or that I made you blush?"

"Both," she blurted out. Which only intensified the blush. There was just no winning.

His smile turned a bit abashed, which left her feeling gratified. At least he knew he was being a scamp, as her grandmother would say. She opened her mouth to say something, but the waiter chose that moment to turn up.

"What can I get for you this evening, sir?"

"A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and Pasta Alpina for two."

"Very good, sir," the waiter said, then he disappeared just as quickly as he'd arrived.

"What happened to just having a drink?" she asked. And what happened to your manners? she asked herself.

"I changed my mind," he said with a shrug. "So sue me."

She giggled. She couldn't help it. It was all so absurd. She'd been dreaming of a dinner date with Frank Reagan off and on for the last three years, but the fact that it was happening felt surreal. Unless this wasn't really a date, which it probably shouldn't be, but she just wasn't sure anymore.

"What's that giggle for?"

"Can't a girl just giggle?" she asked, impudence in her tone.

"Sure, but remember, I have a daughter and a granddaughter," he said. "There's always a reason."

"Well, perhaps if you're very good, I'll tell you when dinner is over," she said saucily. She clapped her hand over her mouth, shocked at herself. She was flirting— _flirting_ —with her boss. 

But instead of being offended, he chuckled. The sound sent a tingle down her spine all the way to her toes. 

The waiter reappeared, pouring them each a glass of the rich, red wine before disappearing again. She reached for her glass, and the Commissioner did the same. He held his up and offered a toast.

"To a memorable evening."

She raised her eyebrow. "A memorable evening."

They clinked glasses, and both took a sip at the same time. The flavor of the wine exploded on her tongue, bold, complex and smooth, much like the man beside her. She swallowed, feeling the burn of the wine all the way down. Another sip and she could finally feel herself untwist from a long week.

"That's better," he murmured.

"Commissioner?" she asked. 

He was watching her, just like she was watching him, that secret smile still playing at his lips. She hadn't realized just how much stress he'd been carrying around until she saw his shoulders slump a little after that first sip of wine. She probably should have seen it; it was part of her job, after all. 

He cringed. "Baker, I think, for the duration of this evening at least, you should probably call me Frank."

She raised her eyebrow. "Baker?" she asked, just to drive the point home.

"Melissa," he said. 

Her name in his mouth felt like a caress. She shivered, and that self-satisfied smile returned.

"Frank," she said. She noticed that he sat up a little straighter at that, and it brought a smile to her lips.

"Baker—Melissa," he corrected himself automatically, looking a little chagrined. "Melanie Maines—"

"Is really none of my business," she said quickly, before he could continue.

He frowned at her. "Melanie Maines and I have known each other for years. Whenever she comes to town, we… get together." He paused, his lips thinning. She could appreciate that this wasn't easy for him, but he seemed determined, so she kept her mouth shut. "We usually spend at least one night together. And then she leaves and we don’t see each other for months."

"So, you're actually friends with benefits?"

He looked startled, until a rueful grin formed on his face. She thought it was a good look on him, but there was rarely a look that wasn't good on his face.

"That about sums it up," he said, chuckling. "Danny tried to keep me from telling him. He didn't want to know."

"Kids usually don't want to know anything about their parents' sex life," she said, humor dancing in her eyes. She could just imagine Danny Reagan with his fingers in his ears, telling his father he didn't need to know.

"That's what he said." He rolled his eyes, and she giggled. Again. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You find this funny."

"Only in that everyone seems to have a strange curiosity about your sex life."

"Yes, well, unfortunately my sex life seems to have collided spectacularly with an investigation," he said, shaking his head. He sighed, taking another sip of his wine. "After Mary died, I thought I'd never find another woman I wanted to be with. It's not love; with Melanie it's more…"

"That she fills a need," she said gently. "It's nice to feel alive every once in a while."

"Exactly," he said, exhaling heavily as if he'd been holding that in for a long time and it was nice to finally have it out there.

"Have you ever thought about finding someone?" she asked. She saw the surprise on his face, and wanted to kick herself for saying it, but when she opened her mouth to take it back, she was surprised by his answer—she was surprised that he answered at all.

"For years after she died, I couldn't think of another woman without it making me sick. She was the love of my life." He paused, and she wanted to tell him he didn't have to say anything, but again she stayed quiet. "I had my family, and the work. It was enough."

"And then it wasn't."

He smiled at her. "The first time, with Melanie, it wasn't anything we planned. We sat next to each other at a charity dinner; we hadn't seen each other in years, so there was a lot to catch up on. We ended up back at her hotel. The next day, I felt so guilty I swore I'd never do it again. Then she came back into town, and we got together again."

"Maybe that's what you needed," she said. "Maybe you needed someone who wouldn't put demands on you for a relationship. You weren't ready for that, but you needed companionship. And as long as she's not asking for anything more than what you have, you don't feel like you're betraying your wife."

"When did you get so smart, Melissa?"

She smiled. "I work for this guy. He only hires smart people."

"Yes, he does," he said, smiling.

Just then the food arrived, and they busied themselves with eating. The pasta was good—better than good—and they were both so busy eating that they didn't really slow down to talk anymore. Which was good, really, because she wasn't kidding when she'd said that everyone seemed to be taking an unnatural interest in his sex life. She hated to admit it, but she had to count herself in that group. This thing she had for him was getting inconvenient; she just needed to get over him.

Of course, the conversation about Melanie Maines and his revelations about maybe looking toward the future with someone were doing absolutely nothing to help her do that. In fact, she might just be falling a little more in love with him. And that would be bad, and she knew it.

"So, what did you do last weekend?" he asked after several minutes had gone by.

She looked up, startled by the completely normal question, after everything they'd just been talking about. Still, she took it for the lifeline it was. The rest of their meal was spent chatting about mundane topics, both of them consciously avoiding anything that smacked of the intimately personal. 

In a way, it disappointed her. For all that she knew about her boss, she wanted to know more. And while the small talk was interesting, and it did tell her things about his likes and dislikes, it wasn't very personal. She craved that intimacy from before, and she knew she shouldn't. 

Finally, the meal was over, and they were polishing off the last of the wine. The waiter delivered the check, and she reached for her purse, intending to pay for her share.

"That won't be necessary, Melissa," he said, smiling. "I've got this."

She watched him pull out his wallet and retrieve a card from inside. But the card, she couldn't help but notice, wasn't the department card. No, he'd pulled out his personal card. Her heart began to flutter in her chest, and she could feel another of those damned blushes creeping over her face.

When he looked up, she could see another knowing smile forming. She desperately wanted to look away, but she held his gaze bravely. She had no idea what was going on, but there was something electric between them now that hadn't been there before. She sincerely hoped she wasn't imagining it. But even if she was, she knew she'd replay this moment in her imagination for weeks to come.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She didn't trust her voice, and so she just nodded. He rose, and she followed suit. He helped her with her coat, in a repeat of earlier. This time there wasn't any of the awkwardness, for which she was grateful. The waiter brought the receipt, and once he'd put everything away, he shrugged into his coat.

They made their way to the front door, his hand at the small of her back. It gave her a little thrill. He hadn't done that on the way in, which told her that their relationship had shifted somewhat in the last hour or so.

The Commissioner's vehicle was waiting at the curb when they stepped outside, and once again, he ushered her into the back seat. And if he sat a little closer on the ride back to One PP, she wasn't going to complain.

When they arrived, he stepped out, taking her hand to help her out of the SUV, and just not letting go as he walked her around the corner to her car. They were out of view of his driver, but he still hadn't let go of her hand.

They arrived at her car, and she turned to him, intending to let go and thank him for dinner. Instead, he stepped closer, looking deep into her eyes.

"The reason I wanted to explain myself to you is because—" He stopped, and she could see the gears in his mind working, trying to come up with just the right words. She waited quietly, aware of her own heart beating loudly in her ears. She knew what she was hoping he would say, but she just wasn't sure it wasn't her imagination, what had passed between them earlier. "I like you, Melissa. And I find that I'm attracted to you. It's entirely inappropriate, but that doesn't change what I feel."

She reached up and laid a hand on his chest, smoothing down his tie. "I'm a big girl, Frank. You don't have to worry about disappointing me. I can take it."

"I don't want to disappoint you," he said. "I find that I'd rather spend an evening like this with you than spend another weekend with Melanie. I didn't expect that."

She sucked in a breath, entirely surprised by that revelation. But she still didn't know where that left them. He was her boss, and while she'd welcome a relationship with him, she knew he wasn't wired that way. Impropriety just wouldn't sit well with him.

"I've been watching you," he said when she didn't speak. "And I think I know what's going on here. The question is, what do you want to do about it?"

"I want to kiss you," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

He smiled, and she could see just a little triumph in that smile. "Then would you mind if I kissed you?"

She shook her head, afraid to speak for fear that she'd snap out of whatever dream she found herself in. Then he leaned in, and she closed her eyes, feeling his lips touch hers. She gasped as electricity shot through her, and he stepped closer, deepening the kiss as he wound his arm around her. She ran her hand up over his collar, settling it behind his neck, holding him there as she fervently hoped he'd never stop.

He did, of course; oxygen had become a necessity. He stayed where he was, pressing his forehead against hers as they both tried to calm their wildly beating hearts.

"Wow," she whispered.

He chuckled. "Haven't lost my touch, apparently."

"Not a bit."

He pulled back, gazing down at her with such affection that it nearly stole her breath away. She toyed with the hairs at the nape of his neck, just enjoying the closeness for a few moments more. She knew they'd both have to go their separate ways eventually, but she needed this to last as long as possible.

"Have dinner with me?"

"We just did," she pointed out.

He frowned at her, but it lost its effect when his smile peeked out around the edges. "Then how about having dinner with me tomorrow night?"

"That's not too soon?" she asked. She didn't want to, but she had no idea how far he was willing to go, and she didn't want to rush him into anything.

"I'd have breakfast with you tomorrow morning if you'd let me."

"That answers that question, then," she said with a smile. "Okay, dinner tomorrow night. Where shall I meet you?"

He shook his head. "I'll come pick you up. Seven o'clock."

She smirked. He never went anywhere without his detail. "Michaels is going to love that."

"Maybe, just this once, I can leave the detail at home," he said. Before she could object, he went on. "Melissa, you're armed, and so am I."

He had a point. "Okay, but you're explaining it to him."

"Fair enough."

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said, smiling up at him. Her heart was swelling with excitement. From where she was standing, she was going out on a date with one of New York's most eligible bachelors. "Do you need my address?"

"I think I can find you," he said. "I am a cop, after all."

"You mean you were a cop," she teased. 

He rolled his eyes. "So this is how it's going to be."

She pushed herself up on her toes, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one didn't last long, just a brief brush of the lips, but she still thrilled at the ease with which she'd fallen into it. When she pulled back, she had a huge smile on her face.

"Unlock your car, Melissa," he said, smiling indulgently.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her keys, hitting the unlock button. The soft sound of the door locks popping open drifted out into the nearly empty garage. He reached around and opened her door, waiting while she settled behind the wheel. Instead of closing the door, he leaned in and kissed her once more.

"Drive safely," he said.

"I promise," she said. She started the car, then turned back to him, smiling softly. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he said. 

He backed up and closed her door, turning and immediately heading for his vehicle. She watched him until he disappeared around the corner. She had to take a few calming breaths before she could drive away. 

She was going on a date with Frank Reagan. It was surreal, and the stuff of her dreams but it was happening. As she drove around the corner, she saw his SUV pulling out ahead of her. She followed it up to the exit, and when her car pulled up next to his to turn right, she saw him wink at her from the back seat. She smiled, then pulled out into traffic, heading for home.

~Finis


End file.
